


In A Cat's Eye

by PeggyPincurls



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Awesome Peggy Carter, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Peggy Carter Lives, Protective Natasha Romanov, Protective Peggy Carter, Protective Steve Rogers, Steggy - Freeform, Team as Family, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, winterwidow - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-15
Updated: 2018-04-15
Packaged: 2019-04-23 02:14:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14322294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeggyPincurls/pseuds/PeggyPincurls
Summary: Peggy, having turned a complete one-eighty from her previous grave assumption of how Natasha had incurred her injuries, was trying not to laugh.  "No wonder you did not want to explain your face."





	In A Cat's Eye

**Author's Note:**

> After "Every Dog Should Have a Boy", a lot of my readers had a question for Bucky. This story answers it.

In a cat's eye, all things belong to cats. 

(English proverb)

**

It took Natasha a minute or two to remember back to the last time she'd been _quite_ this covered in blood. But she tamped down her irritation as she looked at her companion, whose expression was so heartbroken that all her comforting instincts were immediately reserved for him.

 

Bucky's wintry eyes were swimming as he looked at her.

 

"Tasha," he said softly, reaching for her. "I'm so sorry."

 

"It's fine." Natasha sighed through her nose as he mopped up the blood. "I've been hurt worse than this and you know it."

 

"That is not why I'm upset," Bucky hissed. "Natasha..."

 

She grabbed his face between her hands and kissed him fiercely. "It was an accident. Stop worrying. They're just scratches. They'll heal."

 

"The others will talk..."

 

"They try and I'll shut them down." She kissed him again. "Stop. Worrying." She pulled his head down and brushed a brusque kiss across his brow. "I'm giving you an order, Soldier. Go for a good long run. Don't think about my face. Think about my hands and the nice hard rubdown I'll give you when we get back. Go." 

 

Bucky shuddered pleasantly at that idea. "Yes ma'am."

 

Natasha sighed again as she released him. "Go. I'm not leaving until I see you've got your trainers on and you're out the door. You won't sit here sulking and blaming yourself. Go on."

 

Feeling equal parts irritated and flattered by her caring and how well she knew him, Bucky quickly dressed--jogging shorts, long-sleeved compression shirt and glove to hide the arm, thick socks, trainers, ball cap--and followed her pointing finger out the door. 

 

The vivid marks on her face, however, only made her stern expression look that much worse, and just at the threshold he buckled.

 

"Natasha...let's stay home. Let's--"

 

She shoved him, harder than he'd thought she could, down the hall, following to shepherd him away from the door. It would have looked strict to anyone who couldn't hear what she muttered to him as she herded him away from the scene of the accident.

 

" _я люблю тебя_."

 

 

**

 

Not too far from Bucky's apartment, a much more peaceful morning was unfolding at the Rogers-Carter domicile. 

 

A hundred times a day, Steve Rogers took a moment to be grateful at the shape his life had taken. He'd woken from the ice alone and confused, stranded in a world he'd never dreamed of seeing--but now, against all odds, he had friends, a family; his heart's brother was restored to him and his love was at his side. Indeed, it was her voice he was hearing as he shrugged into his t-shirt and walked out of the bedroom they shared to see her sitting on the sofa, red lips curved in the smile he loved so well.

 

Steve felt a grin breaking out on his face and stopped walking, making sure when he resumed he tread quietly so as not to interrupt what he was hearing.

 

"Let Mumma Peggy hold you and help you discover your feet," his girlfriend sang to her tiny charge, and Steve peeked around the doorjamb to see a rather heart-melting sight.

 

Peggy had Brooklyn in her lap; the puppy was on his back, showing Peg his belly. She had his paws in her hands and was gently manipulating them back and forth, close to his nose, away from his nose, close, away. 

 

"Look at your foots! You has four of them," she said happily, tapping each little paw in turn. "Let Mumma show them to you. They are yours!"

 

The puppy gave a whiny growl and put one of his paws in his mouth. 

 

"All yours! All four foots," Peggy said, and then Steve couldn't help but chuckle; he had _never_ heard Peggy use anything even remotely close to baby-talk, not even to actual babies.

 

Hearing him laugh, Peggy's face was crimson as she looked up, and she visibly tried to compose herself. "Steve! Er...um," she said, clearing her throat. "We were playing," she explained. 

 

Steve responded by crossing the room to his little family, placing a hand on her shoulder and bending to kiss her forehead tenderly. Brooklyn squirmed in Peggy's lap, wanting attention from Steve.

 

"Look! Daddy's out of the bath," Peggy said, lifting the pup. "A kiss for Daddy?"

 

Brooklyn licked Steve's cheek. "Did you find your feet today?" he asked the puppy. "Wanna try them out and go for a walk with Mumma and Daddy?" He cradled the dog in the crook of one arm and extended a hand to Peggy. "Care to join us?"

 

Peggy smiled and placed her hand in his, letting him pull her to her feet, her blush fading at knowing he didn't find her expression of affection for their little dog silly. "Yes, please."

 

**

 

Natasha had hoped not to run into anyone on her way up to the Tower, so naturally, Steve and Peggy were walking towards the door with their sweet little dog as soon as she arrived. It would have been easy to fade out of sight and wait for them to pass, but she would be interacting with them upstairs anyway and to hide from them now would only delay the inevitable, so she didn't slow her walk as she approached the glass doors of Stark Tower.

 

"Look at the cute little family," Natasha teased in greeting, resigned to the fact that she was caught.

 

"That's us, the all-Americ--Oh my gosh!" Steve Rogers' adorable tendency to watch his language did not make his sudden expression of concern any less severe. "Natasha, what happened?"

 

Natasha pressed her lips together. "Nothing, Rogers. Let's get upstairs."

 

Too late, and she'd known it wouldn't work anyway. Peggy had rounded on her as well, her expression steely. While Natasha appreciated their protection of her, it was as unnecessary as it was awkward. "Your face, Natasha. What happened to your face?"

 

Steve, with his easy affection and innocent lack of boundaries sometimes, was reaching to examine the wounds. "These look bad."

 

"They aren't, and I don't want to discuss it," Natasha said briskly. "They're just scratches, and they will heal. Now let's go. They look worse than they are."

 

"They're fresh." Peggy and Steve were ignoring her; this was said as an aside from Peggy to Steve. "Clotting, but fresh. Natasha, it looks like you could have lost an eye, and this is swelling."

 

Natasha knew how bad she looked. Her eye was swelling, and she didn't need a mirror to know it. There were lines of fire across her eye and brow which had made her wince--ah, vanity--when she'd first looked at them, their rusty color breaking up the purple and black twilight on her lid and orbital bone. She was unsure how she had even bruised so badly, and thinking about it irritated her because she was embarrassed at being caught quite so off-guard. Her lip was split open, and throbbing. One cheek was shredded. It was the sort of face they usually saw on Clint, but her pride hurt worse than anything else.

 

"I'm fine," Natasha reiterated through gritted teeth. "I underestimated a threat, I'm very embarrassed, and I won't make the mistake again. Let's _go_ already." She grabbed both their shoulders and steered them towards the door--which meant Steve got tangled in Brooklyn's leash and nearly went sprawling. It was comically cute and served as a welcome distraction from her injuries until they all got into the elevator.

 

**

 

It didn't improve as the morning went on. Clint reacted to her injuries first with brotherly fury, then with brotherly teasing. Tony joined in, and Natasha decided quickly that she preferred brotherly fury to piss-take. Pepper fussed over her, which she hated; the antiseptic burned and the ointment was greasy, which she also hated. Only Banner, more or less a permanent fixture in the labs onsite at the Tower due to the calming effect his research had on him, was respectful enough to take her word that she was fine and to let it lie. Oh, and Brooklyn, who seemed to know that she was upset and sat on her feet for most of the time she spent in her meetings with Stark, Rogers and Carter on their new tech. She didn't argue this--the stumpy potato of a dog was an utterly cheerful, unoffensive presence, and Natasha, who had a brotherly bond with Steve Rogers forged in the fire of battle, was in heavy favor of anything that made him happy and gave him peace, Peggy Carter holding the top spot, Barnes and Brooklyn coming in second and third.

 

Peggy and Steve, who cared for Natasha in equal, if differently expressed, ways, were eager to help when she requested to follow them home upon conclusion of the tutorials on Tony's latest toys for them. Peggy and Natasha were sharing some of the pieces, as concealed lipstick weapons were of little use to Steve. While Peggy would be using such far more than Natasha, who would only require them for undercover ops, it hadn't hurt at all to sit in on the briefs.

 

 _Nothing_ hurt as much as her pride today, not even her eye.

 

"Everything all right, Nat?" Steve asked, and Natasha allowed her heart to settle at their different ways of addressing her. Clint and Steve always called her "Nat", and she liked this--it reinforced the bond of brothers that she held so dear in both of them. Peggy always called her by her full name, or, out of habit, "Agent Romanoff", and that was equally pleasing because it spoke of respect not just from one female agent to another, but from the woman who had been the pillar of strength and the north star for the Captain, whom Natasha respected and loved. That meant quite a bit.

 

Only Bucky called her "Tasha", and that warmed her heart most of all. That was just between them; that was theirs. 

 

Which was why she _had_ to protect him, and as much as it pained her to think she had to protect him from _them_ , she knew there would be no stopping them from following the possibility to its end. 

 

"Yeah. I'm just going to Bucky's, so I thought I'd tag along on your train. And if one of you wouldn't mind coming up with me to let me in in case he's not there, that'd be great."

 

This prompted the wrinkled brows and puzzled looks she was expecting; Steve was the one who verbalized the thought. "You have a key."

 

"I forgot it." She cursed herself for not just telling that lie up front. "I could break in, but the super has kind of a hate on for Bucky because he's had to spackle over some knuckle dents and he'll have a cow about changing the locks again. You guys know how it is. Give me a break, would you?" She forced some defensive impatience into her voice, not ashamed to try and play on their sympathies.

 

It worked. "Of course, Nat," Steve said gently, and Peggy nodded firmly, that steely, protective gleam back in her eye.

 

When they arrived at 59th street, a rather short hop on the N train, Steve scooped up Brooklyn and told Peggy, "Let me get off here and take this guy for a walk back to ours. You go on to Bay Ridge Avenue and let Natasha in to Bucky's. I'll catch you up. Sound good?"

 

"Perfect. Be safe," Peggy said, an admonishment she always parted from her Captain with (something Natasha found endearing). Steve, while not as much for public displays of affection as some (Peggy was even less so), handed off his house keys with a quick but tender kiss of her cheek and made Brooklyn's paw wave as he exited the train.

 

Natasha breathed a small sigh of relief. This was not going to go well regardless, but Peggy would handle it better than Steve would. 

 

Bucky lived in an apartment building off 4th Avenue, around the corner from Steve and Peggy's building on Ridge. When they got up to his floor, Peggy stopped close to the door, but not quite in front of it, and pointedly jingled the keys. Natasha arched a brow.

 

"Habit," the former SSR agent explained. "If someone with an itchy trigger finger is behind that door, I want him to make his move before I'm standing in front of it."

 

Natasha's eyes narrowed in approval, her inner file cabinet opening and closing as that observation was stored in her "Carter" file. "Good thinking, because I need you to go in first."

 

Peggy frowned. "First? Natasha, you have been cagey all day, and you are not giving me anything to work with. You show up to the Tower with a face like a Flannery O'Connor character, but won't tell us what happened, and now you're sending me out on the front lines, which frankly makes me suspicious. Did you just bring me up here to be cannon fodder?"

 

"You're not in any danger. Just go in first, OK?" Natasha said irritably. "I just want to check something."

 

"If there is an assassin in there and I get shot, you will be the first person I haunt nightly," Peggy warned, but unlocked the door and marched into Bucky's apartment. 

 

Nothing happened. 

 

**

 

Peggy glanced around the entryway, turned this way and that, and finally looked at Natasha. "All clear. See? Nothing's wrong."

Natasha did not seem convinced; she took one hesitant step into the apartment, then another. She followed Peggy towards the kitchen, still wary.

 

"Natasha," Peggy said gently, never having seen the Widow this jumpy, "please tell me what is wrong. Is this about what happened to your face?"

 

Natasha huffed.

 

"Natasha," Peggy said in growing concern, realizing _who_ might have the power to both damage Natasha's face while still prompting her to protect them over it. "Did Sergeant Barnes regress to one of his fugue states? Did he...hurt you?"

Natasha turned narrow, frustrated eyes to Peggy. But Peggy was used to stubbornness, and this was a serious matter.

 

"If he hurt you, you should tell," Peggy insisted.

 

"Not _Bucky_ ," Natasha hissed. "Bucky didn't hurt me, Carter, it's--"

 

The answer came from the top of the refrigerator, and Peggy had only a second to see hellishly flashing eyes before Natasha pushed her out of the line of fire. Peggy yelped, not prepared for being put off balance, and hit the floor hard. "Oof!"

 

Natasha shrieked too--but out of annoyance, not fear.

 

" _Dumpster_!" she screamed, shaking her head wildly back and forth, and the offending missile leaped off it and onto the floor, where it hissed, puffing its tail up like a bottle brush.

 

" 'Dumpster'?" Peggy asked incredulously from the floor.

 

"She is _so_ possessive of Bucky," Natasha grumped. "It's ridiculous. It's ricockulous." Then she did something Peggy found utterly insane. Baring her teeth, _Natasha_ hissed, at the animal. "Go on, Dumpster. Scat!"

 

The kitten, a rather pretty-looking, if scrawny, thing with insolent green eyes and a white and gray coat, sauntered off, skinny tail sticking up like a pipe cleaner. It was so tiny Peggy imagined she could fit it in her hand.

 

"Bucky found her in the _garbage_ ," Natasha said. "Which pretty much sums up what I think of her. She ran out of the trash can and sat on his foot, and there was no talking him out of it when he saw how tiny she was. She's the worst. Now everything in the apartment smells like her so she thinks she owns it, and she thinks she owns Bucky, which means I get scratched every time I sleep over. At least Steve's dog is friendly."

 

Peggy, having turned a complete one-eighty from her previous grave assumption of how Natasha had incurred her injuries, was trying not to laugh. "No wonder you did not want to explain your face."

 

Natasha was actually flushed with rage. "She was sleeping on Bucky's head, OK? She does that sometimes. I must have...um...put my head on his shoulder in my sleep. She didn't like that." 

 

Peggy wasn't sure if it was the admission that she had been clawed in the face by a runty kitten or the admission that she had been snuggling up to Barnes that embarrassed Natasha more. "Goodness," she said mildly. "You woke up to that?"

 

"Yes. It was like being woken up by a flying buzz saw." Natasha's nostrils flared; one had a small bloody scratch hooking into it. "Happy now? She scratched up my face and stepped on my eye. Bucky didn't hurt me, and don't you _dare_ imply to anyone that he did. He wouldn't do that."

 

Peggy smiled; Natasha's defense of the man who, while under brainwashing, had almost killed them both, was oddly endearing. Natasha's efforts to make Bucky feel normal were nothing short of heroic, and Peggy knew full well how it looked and felt to be gone on someone. She nodded. "Noted, Agent Romanoff, and I agree with you." She glanced in the direction Dumpster had swaggered off in. "Did he really take that kitten in from the garbage?"

 

"He gave her a bath in the sink and he asked me to warm up milk in a saucepan," Natasha spat. "He fed it to her with an _eyedropper_. It was so sweet I needed an insulin shot. He _still_ warms up her milk if he's home. He holds her like he's afraid he's going to break her, and she climbs all over him any chance she gets. He's about eight thousand times her size and she has him wrapped around her stupid little toe beans."

 

Peggy tried not to let her mouth bend in a smirk as she said, "You had your key the entire time, didn't you?"

 

"Of course I did. I don't _forget my keys_ , I'm the Black Widow," Natasha scoffed. "I just wanted to see if Dumpster would attack anyone who came in here, or if I'm the only one she chooses to honor with her attention. Her stupid, pointy attention." Softening and looking oddly young in her appeal for help, she added, "You'll explain to Steve, right? He'll come to the same conclusion you did, but I promise you, you're wrong. Bucky didn't do this. He felt terrible about it. He tried to get me to stay home today. If Tony thinks that Bucky hurt me, he'll make it into a thing, and Bucky would _never_ , Peggy, he would--"

 

They were interrupted by another jingle of keys and the arrival of a sweaty but relaxed-looking Bucky, clad in jogging shorts and a long-sleeved thermal, his feet in trainers. That tranquil expression lasted about two seconds before Bucky visibly tensed, taking in the situation, and said, "I can explain, Peggy. I swear. It's--"

 

"She knows," Natasha said gently. reaching her hands out to steady him. "I told you, it's fine, except for me never being able to live this down ever." More angrily, she added, "I _hate_ your kitten. She is going to happily preside over your bachelorhood for the rest of your life. I hope you know that. She is a monster."

 

"Aww, she's just getting used to you," Bucky said, visibly relaxing again as he took in Peggy's impishly amused expression at this unfolding of events. "She's so tiny, Tash. She wouldn't hurt you."

 

"Having met Dumpster, I must agree that the hatred between the kitten and Natasha is mutual," Peggy said stoutly. 

 

"She would hate _anyone_ who tried to cuddle up to Barnes," Natasha seethed, crossing her arms over her chest. "She is his wife now. She is his kitten wife. _Shut up_ , Carter."

 

Too late--Peggy couldn't hold back the laughter anymore.

 

**

 

Peggy did explain to Steve, which transformed Captain America's concern over the situation into unbridled delight. He was thrilled not only at the idea of Bucky having a healthy outlet like a pet, but at the prospect of a new animal to play with (Steve loved animals and made no secret of it; at an uncomfortable cocktail party at which he knew few people and could not stick to Peggy's side, he would gravitate to the host's dog or cat), and Dumpster quickly caught on that she had to be on her best behavior with Steve, purring like an outboard motor and perching on Captain America's broad shoulders while nuzzling his cheek. This infuriated Natasha, who was still feeling like J. Jonah Jameson trying to prove Spider-Man was a menace to a public that refused to do anything but adore him. This was not helped when Tony photoshopped a picture of Natasha holding up a fake newspaper to this effect, the headline reading SMALL KITTEN RUNS AMOK IN BROOKLYN; WHO WILL SAVE US? and put it on a bulletin board in the Tower’s communal office bullpen. For a while Tony and Natasha had matching black eyes and Clint had a daily stitch in his side from laughing too hard.

 

It took exactly no time for Dumpster to establish her dominance over Brooklyn. He was thrilled to have a playmate, and while Dumpster's idea of playing seemed to involve more bites and scratches than actual playfulness, it didn't diminish Brooklyn's delight in her in the slightest. She would jump on his back and dig her claws in; Brooklyn would simply frisk about while Dumpster held on for dear life as though she were on horseback. She stole his toys; Brooklyn would simply play hide and seek until he found them. Dumpster would bat Brooklyn's toys away from him; he would fetch them and bring them back to her, ready for her to try again. He would lick the kitten with his broad tongue; Dumpster passively permitted this, then would promptly bite Brooklyn before curling up to nap beside him. Brooklyn took no issue with any of this, and would lay down with the kitten as if they were litter mates. The odd friendship slightly worried Peggy and Steve, absolutely charmed Bucky, and downright infuriated Natasha. 

 

"That cat is the unimaginable worst," was Natasha's assessment of the situation. 

 

**

 

It was not often that Bucky was forced to gladhand. Tony certainly wasn't volunteering him to be the face of any projects, and Steve and Peggy respected his privacy--and his healing--enough to protect him from such things when they could. 

 

However, even he could not come up with a reason not to attend a fundraiser for the Howard and Maria Stark Foundation when the invite came from Anthony Stark himself. 

 

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he’d said to Stark and Potts through gritted teeth. Risking a punch in the face--or worse--he’d added recklessly, “I doubt your donors will appreciate rubbing elbows with the Winter Soldier at the punch bowl.”

 

Pepper had silently put a hand on Tony’s arm, as if to steady him, and to his credit, Stark’s voice was quiet and even as he responded, “No, they probably wouldn’t. But I’m not inviting him. I’m inviting Bucky Barnes.” Pepper had handed Tony a printed invitation, and Tony had in turn handed it to Bucky, with the parting shot, “There’ll be mini quiches. Up to you.”

 

Which was why Bucky was looking in his bureau mirror and fidgeting with his bow tie--he had _always_ sucked at these, where was Steve or even Peggy when you needed them--when he felt a soft weight settle on his shoulder. Dumpster had wanted to know what he was up to, jumping to the top of the bureau from the windowsill, and then to his shoulder. She never seemed to mind walking on the left one.

 

“ _No_ ,” scolded a stern voice, and then Natasha was swatting at Dumpster, who jumped down and hissed at the Widow. “Get down, you. No hair on the suit. Now _get_.”

 

Bucky pressed his lips together--he couldn’t hide how unhappy he was that his girlfriend and his cat couldn’t get along, and felt a little ashamed at the ridiculousness of that situation in general. 

 

“She’s not doing anything, Tash. Can you help me with this?”

 

Natasha briskly tipped his chin up with a gentle hand, knotting his tie expertly. “We don’t have to go,” she said firmly. “We can stay at home with Jerkcat if you want. It’s your choice.”

 

“Will everyone stop saying that?” Bucky groused, tugging on his jacket cuffs. “I _know_ it’s my choice, I know _everything_ is, but sometimes the choices I want to make because they’re easier will make me look like an asshole. And I don’t want to be an asshole. That’s my choice too, damn it. So let’s go drink punch with a bunch of rich people for a few hours and then order takeout because Peggy will have already gotten to the mini quiches and you know how much she likes those.”

 

Natasha pulled his head down for a ferocious kiss. “I’m so fucking proud of you,” she muttered, and then she was assisting Dumpster away from his trouser legs with a firm sweep of her high-heeled pump. “I _see_ you down there, monsterface, I’m up here, not blind. _Scat_.”

 

Bucky sighed and licked his lips, comforted by the taste of her lipstick and the sensory memory of her mouth on his.

 

**

 

At first, the party wasn't terrible. With Natasha's help, Bucky had managed to stay calm throughout a haircut and a shave, which made him a little less recognizable as the scruffy assassin who was responsible for the deaths of the couple this foundation and its banquet was honoring. He had been right about Peggy and the mini quiche; at one point she charmed a group of donors she was conversing with by interrupting a smart explanation of her favorite applications of the foundation's grants by calling cheerfully to a passing server, "Oi, mate, I see you there, don't try to pass me without stopping," which broke her audience up into laughter.

 

Bucky was especially glad of her presence; she was excellent at gladhanding, which meant neither he nor Steve would have to do much talking. Although, Steve made a very good foil for Peggy, discussing hospital visits and looking incredibly wholesome despite the dashing cut of his tux. When the dance floor opened, Steve and Peggy sealed the donors' approval of them when the Captain whisked his agent to the center of the room for a waltz. They were joined by Tony and Pepper, and met with applause. While Bucky had long since conditioned himself not to clap his hands, for the obvious reason, the expression on his face was that of loving approval, and Natasha sidled up to him, at his right which made it easy for him to put his "good" hand on the small of her exposed back. He was fond of the backless, sparkling black sheath she was wearing, because it allowed him access to his touchstone without looking too overt. 

 

It was at the very same punch bowl Bucky had joked about earlier that things took a turn for the dangerous. 

 

"Of course, Tony does more than just slapping his name on a few science scholarships. He's very active with the hospital visits as well. He joins me on them often, and he's great with the kids," Steve said warmly to a couple of socialites as he ladled punch into a glass for Peggy. He and Pepper had been discussing education grants with a clustered group of New York City well-to-dos and the conversation had segued off into other things the donated funds did to better the lives of children. 

 

"Somehow I can't see that," guffawed a flush-faced hooray Bucky had spotted earlier on the dance floor, clumsily treading on his date's feet. "Stark strikes me as being a bit of a big kid himself, with a lot of expensive toys."

 

This drew laughter from the crowd, and Bucky could see Pepper puffing up slightly in defense of not just her boss, but her lover. 

 

"Quite the contrary," she said icily, cutting into the conversation. "Tony knows what it's like to have missed out on big parts of his childhood, yes, but that's simply more reason he's very invested in the success of young people, not just in academics, but in all aspects of life."

 

"Going to stop the next generation from living his wild life, eh?" bugled the hooray, either unwilling to let it drop or simply ignorant of how insulting he sounded, and one of the other women, a brittle-looking socialite in a bead-encrusted nightmare that Bucky had no way of knowing was an Escada, laughed in a way that sounded cruel instead of simply amused. A frown line was beginning to form on Steve's brow, and Pepper's eyes were hot with fury. Even Natasha looked ready to speak up, but before she could, Bucky surprised himself--and the rest of them--by beating her to it.

 

Only Steve and Peggy, who had known him Before, could hear the borderline-smug bombast of the old Bucky Barnes in his voice as he interjected smoothly, "Actually, it's kind of cute to see him go to the orphanages and hold the babies."

 

This stopped everyone dead in their tracks. The hooray's date, a slender, younger woman whom Bucky had the feeling had been put up to this evening, actually clutched at her pearls--rather, the place her pearls would have been had she been wearing any; she had on a diamond-drop necklace that Bucky imagined cost more than his tux--said in genuine wonder, "Does he really?"

 

Smiling winningly, Bucky pressed his advantage. "Sure does. The foundation has quite a few in places where there are still active military conflicts, so there are a lot of war orphans. It's not too different from the war orphanages of the 40s. Babies need a lot of interaction, and it's really important to hold them so they're properly socialized. I think it helps Tony, too. Speaking for myself, I'm in full favor of anything that brings peace of mind."

 

The hooray's date was looking at Bucky with shining eyes, and her escort gave a much gentler chuckle, adding kindly, "Well, I'll be." Natasha's lips twisted in a triumphant almost-smirk, and Peggy, standing a bit behind the gathered donors beside a visibly proud Steve, brandished the punch glass the Captain had handed her and mouthed, "Well done."

 

The woman who had laughed at the hooray's joke, however, wasn't finished, and Bucky realized his tactical error in mentioning his own stresses, even by omission. A haircut and a shave weren't enough to stop her eyes from darting down to his gloved left hand, and like the dog in the Sherlock Holmes story--the one that didn't bark--Bucky realized that, too, had given him away.

 

"Well, of _course_ Tony Stark cares for orphans," the woman said in an oily voice that was meant to sound friendly and ended up predatory. "Goodness knows, he can identify with them. What _would_ you expect of a man who had lost both his parents to an _assassin's_ plot?"

 

After this shot across the bow, Peggy and Steve tried immediately to push their way forward, and Bucky's situational assessment skills quickly noticed Steve staying the arm Peggy was holding her punch glass with; he had no doubt that if Captain America had been a second slower, she'd have shoved it in the woman's face. Pepper had tensed, eyes scanning like nervous radar, and to his surprise Bucky trusted her to come down on his side, not just for his earlier defense of Tony, but simply because. Natasha had tensed like a bowstring at his right, but had not moved.

 

The woman began to gain steam, completely ignoring the uncomfortable looks on the faces of the hooray and his young escort; she gestured grandly to them as she continued. "What _would_ you think of someone who forwent his proven history of financial success in the military sector when confronted with someone who was truly more weapon than man?"

 

Natasha relaxed, and reached into her handbag, which was hanging on her shoulder by a shoestring strap. Bucky was afraid, not of her but for her--he knew that motion, and any minute now the Widow would simply draw her weapon and damn the consequences. Guilt and confusion flooded Bucky--if only he had simply stayed home and not tried to prove a point by being here--

 

"What _would_ you think--" the woman was continuing, and then Natasha stepped in front of Bucky, advancing towards the woman with her weapon of choice--not a gun or a knife but her mobile phone.

 

“What would you think,” Natasha said, very softly, “of a man who found a kitten eating out of the garbage, gave it a warm bath in the kitchen sink, and fed it milk with an eyedropper, because he couldn’t stand to see a hungry baby looking for food?”

 

The entire group stilled.

 

Natasha held up her phone, chattering merrily now that she had their attention. She knew how uncomfortable she’d made them, and she was prepared to milk it for all it was worth. “Her name is Dumpster,” she said cheerfully. “Look how cute. Here she is on Bucky’s shoulder. Aren’t they precious?”

 

Miraculously, the hooray's young date warmed up to this. "Wow, she's so small!" She touched her escort's shoulder. "Matt, show them the photos of your two."

 

The hooray was already digging his phone out of his trouser pocket. "Look at these two monsters. Maine Coons. I'm a big guy, I need big cats! Shed like beasts, they do. It was hell keeping them away from this monkey suit!"

 

Natasha laughed right along with him. "We had the same problem. I was afraid everyone would think Bucky's tuxedo was made of angora."

 

Peggy and Steve added their own volley. "Of course you all know our little loaf of bread," Peggy said with warm affection, displaying photos of Brooklyn on her mobile. "Here he is wearing Steve's helmet. Isn't this silly?"

 

Steve laughed and tapped Peggy's shoulder. "Show them the one where he fell asleep next to Thor's hammer."

 

The woman in the beaded dress, having lost her audience, slunk off towards the dance floor, presumably to air her views elsewhere. Bucky didn't much care; the situation diffused, he felt free to sidle closer to the punch bowl, where Pepper was already ladling him a fresh glass. Handing it to him with a pointed air kiss beside his cheek, she whispered, "Thank you for coming."

 

Bucky, normally uncomfortable with being touched, especially in these situations, answered this with a moment's lingering while she performed the social gesture, and a barely perceptible nod. He knew she was also thanking him for his defense of Tony.

 

Natasha, who pushed his boundaries constantly and had no qualms about being in public, greeted him when he rejoined her with a proper kiss, and didn't bother to whisper. "I love you."

 

"I think Peggy was about to break her glass on that woman's nose," he answered, unable to answer her in this space where he felt so exposed, especially after that kind of incident. "Thanks for jumping in."

 

"For you? Any time, Barnes," Natasha said smoothly. "Now that the cat's out of the bag--and yes, that pun is intended--get your ass on the dance floor. Someone's got to show Steve and Peggy how to dance like they're not at an ice cream social."

 

This was obviously to amuse him, as Peggy was quite a skilled dancer and Steve's utter devotion to his darling had prompted him to learn quite a bit in pursuit of being worthy of his beloved Agent Carter in all aspects, including the social ones. But it worked; Bucky felt a smile tugging at his lips. "You're right. I suppose it's up to us."

 

**

 

Upon their retiring to bed, Dumpster, her tiny paws denting the pillow, circled the area above Bucky's head three times, and then, upon deciding the spot was tenderized enough, peered over his brow to look him in the eyes.

 

"No, not tonight," Bucky said, as though he were talking to a toddler. Reaching up, he took the kitten from atop his head and placed her gently at the foot of the bed. "Tonight Natasha gets to sleep on my shoulder, and you be nice. She stuck up for both of us tonight."

 

Dumpster, with that basilisk stare that only cats have, paced at the foot of the bed, then settled down where she thought Bucky's toes might be. Natasha pressed her face into the juncture of Bucky's neck and shoulder. "Does this mean I'm your new kitten wife?"

 

Bucky chuckled. "Shut up and go to sleep."

 

They got in about an hour of drowsy cuddling before Dumpster decided her new favorite place to sleep was on Natasha's rib cage, claws kneading through the thin nightgown the Widow wore, her purr rumbling loud enough to get Bucky's attention. But he stilled when Natasha shifted, hand drifting down from Bucky's chest to scratch between the kitten's ears. 

 

“Fuck you, cat,” she murmured sleepily, and Dumpster bit Natasha's fingertips--

 

\--but gently.

**Author's Note:**

> Eve.of.flight on Instagram must be credited with the wonderful facts she tells me about Tony, many of which I never knew. He does in fact go to orphanages to hold the babies; that is canon, and it's lovely.
> 
> Dumpster is based on a real kitten named Monster. Yes, we found her in the rubbish. 
> 
> Yes, I'm still working on "Star Spangled Heart". I'm excited for where it's going, I just want it to be very right before I post it. No, any upcoming films won't affect my plot, timeline or my desire to keep telling that story. It's my happy place.
> 
> Thanks for reading, as always :)


End file.
